During the summer of 1862 the stirring events in the Western
hemisphere attracted universal attention. All eyes were fixed on
Richmond. The fierce
fighting on the
Chickahominy, and
the defeat of the invaders, excited Europe hardly less than it did
the North. The weekly mails were eagerly awaited. The newspapers
devoted many columns to narrative, criticism, and prediction. The
strategy and tactics of the rival armies were everywhere discussed,
and the fact that almost every single item of intelligence came from
a Northern source served only as a whet to curiosity. The vast
territory controlled by the Confederacy was so completely cut off
from the outer world that an atmosphere of mystery enveloped the
efforts of the defence. “The
Southern States,” it has been said, “stood in the attitude of a
beleaguered fortress. The war was in truth a great siege; the
fortress covered an area of more than 700,000 square miles, and the
lines of investment around it extended over more than 10,000 miles.”
Within the circle of Federal cannon and Federal cruisers only the
imagination could penetrate. At rare intervals some daring
blockade-runner brought a budget of Southern newspapers, or an
enterprising correspondent succeeded in transmitting a dispatch from
Richmond. But such glimpses of the situation within the cordon did
little more than tantalise. The news was generally belated, and had
often been long discounted by more recent events. Still, from
Northern sources alone, it was abundantly clear that the weaker of
the two belligerents was making a splendid struggle. Great names and
great achievements loomed large through

the darkness. The war at the outset, waged by ill-trained and
ill-disciplined volunteers, commanded by officers unknown to fame,
had attracted small notice from professional soldiers. After the
Seven Days’ battles it assumed a new aspect. The men, despite their
shortcomings, had displayed undeniable courage, and the strategy
which had relieved Richmond recalled the master-strokes of Napoleon.
It was evident that the Southern army was led by men of brilliant
ability, and the names of Lee’s lieutenants were on every tongue.
Foremost amongst these was Stonewall Jackson. Even the Northern
newspapers made no scruple of expressing their admiration, and the
dispatches of their own generals gave them constant opportunities of
expatiating on his skill. During the first weeks of August, the
reports from the front, whether from
Winchester, from
Fredericksburg, or
from the Peninsula, betrayed the fear and uneasiness he inspired.
The overthrow of
Pope’s advanced guard at
Cedar Run, followed by the unaccountable disappearance of the
victorious army, was of a piece with the manœuvres in the Valley.
What did this disappearance portend? Whither had the man of mystery
betaken himself? Where would the next blow fall? “I don’t like
Jackson’s movements,” wrote
McClellan to
Halleck; “he will suddenly appear
when least expected.” This misgiving found many echoes. While
Jackson was operating against Pope, McClellan had successfully
completed the evacuation of Harrison’s Landing. Embarking his sick,
he marched his five army corps to
Fortress Monroe, observed
by Lee’s patrols, but otherwise unmolested. The quiescence of the
Confederates, however, brought no relief to the North. Stocks fell
fast, and the premium on gold rose to sixteen per cent. For some
days not a shot had been fired along the Rapidan. Pope’s army rested
in its camps. Jackson had completely vanished. But the silence at
the front was not considered a reassuring symptom.

If the
Confederates had allowed McClellan to escape, it was very generally
felt that they had done so only because they were preparing to crush
Pope before he could be

reinforced. “It is the fear of this operation,” wrote the Times
Special Correspondent in the Northern States, “conducted by the
redoubtable Stonewall Jackson, that has filled New York with uneasy
forebodings. Wall Street does not ardently believe in the present
good fortune or the future prospects of the Republic.”1

Neither the knowledge which McClellan possessed of his old West
Point comrade, nor the instinct of the financiers, proved
misleading. Jackson had already made his plans. Even before he had
lured Pope forward to the Rapidan he had begun to plot his downfall.
“When we were marching back from Cedar Run,” writes Major Hotchkiss,
“and had passed Orange Court House on our way to Gordonsville, the
general, who was riding in front of the staff, beckoned me to his
aide. He at once entered into conversation, and said that as soon as
we got back to camp he wished me to prepare maps of the whole
country between Gordonsville and
Washington,
adding that he required several copies—I think five.

August 13 “This was about noon on Sunday, and as we were
near camp I asked him if the map was to be begun immediately,
knowing his great antipathy to doing anything on Sunday which was
not a work of necessity. He replied that it was important to have it
done at once.”2

August 14
The next day, August 14, the exact position of the Federal army was
ascertained. The camps were north and east of Slaughter Mountain,
and Jackson instructed Captain Boswell, his chief engineer, who had
lived in the neighbourhood, to report on the best means of turning
the enemy’s left flank and reaching Warrenton, thus intervening
between Pope and Washington, or between Pope and Aquia Creek. The
line of march recommended by Boswell led through Orange Court House
to Pisgah Church, and crossing the Rapidan at Somerville Ford, ran
by Lime Church and Stevensburg to Brandy Station.

August 15 On the night of the 15th, after two days’ rest,
the three divisions moved from Gordonsville to Pisgah Church, and
there halted to await reinforcements.

These were already on their way. On the 13th General Lee had learned
that
Burnside, who had
already left the Peninsula for Aquia Creek on the Potomac, was
preparing to join Pope, and it was reported by a deserter that part
of McClellan’s army had embarked on the transports at Harrison’s
Landing. Inferring that the enemy had relinquished all active
operations in the Peninsula, and that Pope would soon be reinforced
by the
Army of the Potomac,
Lee resolved to take the offensive without delay. The campaign which
Jackson had suggested more than a month before, when McClellan was
still reeling under the effects of his defeat, and Pope’s army was
not yet organised, was now to be begun. The same evening the railway
conveyed Longstreet’s advanced brigade to Gordonsville, and with the
exception of D. H. Hill’s and McLaws’ divisions, which remained to
watch McClellan, the whole army fled.

On the 15th Lee met his
generals in council. The map drawn by Captain Hotchkiss was
produced, and the manœuvre which had suggested itself to Jackson was
definitely ordered by the Commander-in-Chief. The Valley army, at
dawn on the 18th, was to cross the Rapidan at Somerville Ford.
Longstreet, preceded by Stuart, who was to cut the Federal
communications in rear of Culpeper Court House, was to make the
passage at Raccoon Ford. Jackson’s cavalry was to cover the left and
front, and Anderson’s division was to form a general reserve. The
movement was intended to be speedy. Only ambulances and ammunition
waggons were to follow the troops. Baggage and supply trains were to
be parked on the south side of the Rapidan, and the men were to
carry three days’ cooked rations in their haversacks.

On
Clark’s Mountain, a high hill near Pisgah Church, Jackson had
established a signal station. The view from the summit embraced an
extensive landscape. The ravages of war had not yet effaced its
tranquil beauty, nor had the names of its bright rivers and thriving
villages become household words. It was still unknown to history, a
peaceful and pastoral district, remote from the beaten

tracks of trade and travel, and inhabited by a quiet and industrious
people. To-day there are few regions which boast sterner or more
heroic memories. To the right, rolling away in light and shadow for
a score of miles, is the great forest of Spotsylvania, within whose
gloomy depths lie the fields of Chancellorsville; where the
breastworks of the Wilderness can still be traced; and on the
eastern verge of which stand the grass-grown batteries of
Fredericksburg. Northward, beyond the woods which hide the Rapidan,
the eye ranges over the wide and fertile plains of Culpeper, with
the green crest of Slaughter Mountain overlooking Cedar Run, and the
dim levels of Brandy Station, the scene of the great cavalry battle,1
just visible beyond. Far away to the north-east the faint outline of
a range of hills marks the source of
Bull Run and the
Manassas plateau, and to the west, the long rampart of the Blue
Ridge, softened by distance, stands high above the Virginia plains.

August 17 On the afternoon of August 17, Pope’s forces
seemed doomed to inevitable destruction. The Confederate army, ready
to advance the next morning, was concentrated behind Clark’s
Mountain, and Lee and Jackson, looking toward Culpeper, saw the
promise of victory in the careless attitude of the enemy. The day
was hot and still. Round the base of Slaughter Mountain, fifteen
miles northward, clustered many thousands of tents, and the blue
smoke of the camp-fires rose straight and thin in the sultry air.
Regiments of infantry, just discernible through the glare, were
marching and countermarching in various directions, and long
waggon-trains were creeping slowly along the dusty roads. Near at
hand, rising above the tree-tops, the Union colours showed that the
outposts still held the river, and the flash of steel at the end of
some woodland vista betrayed the presence of scouting party or
vedette. But there were no symptoms of unusual excitement, no sign
of working parties, of reinforcements for the advanced posts, of the
construction of earthworks or abattis. Pope’s camps were scattered
over a wide tract of

country, his cavalry was idle, and it seemed absolutely certain that
he was unconscious of the near neighbourhood of the Confederate
army.

The inference was correct. The march to Pisgah Church
had escaped notice. The Federals were unaware that Lee had arrived
at Gordonsville, and they had as yet no reason to believe that there
was the smallest danger of attack.

Between Raccoon and
Locustdale fords, and stretching back to Culpeper Court House,
52,500 men—for Reno, with two divisions of Burnside’s army, 8,000
strong, had arrived from Fredericksburg—were in camp and bivouac.
The front was protected by a river nearly a hundred yards wide, of
which every crossing was held by a detachment, and Pope had reported
that his position was so strong that it would be difficult to drive
him from it. But he had not made sufficient allowance for the energy
and ability of the Confederate leaders. His situation, in reality,
was one of extreme danger. In ordering Pope to the Rapidan, and
bidding him “fight like the devil’1 until McClellan
should come up,
Halleck made the same fatal
error as
Stanton, when
he sent
Shields
up the Luray Valley in pursuit of Jackson. He had put an inferior
force within reach of an enemy who held the interior lines, and had
ordered two armies, separated by several marches, to effect their
concentration under the fire of the enemy’s guns. And if Pope’s
strategical position was bad, his tactical position was even worse.
His left, covering Raccoon and Somerville Fords, was very weak. The
main body of his army was massed on the opposite flank, several
miles distant, astride the direct road from Gordonsville to Culpeper
Court House, and he remained without the least idea, so late as the
morning of the 18th, that the whole Confederate army was
concentrated behind Clark’s Mountain, within six miles of his most
vulnerable point. Aware that Jackson was based on Gordonsville, he
seems to have been convinced that if he advanced at all, he would
advance directly on Culpeper

1 O.R., vol.
xii, part ii, p. 67. “It may have been fortunate for the
Confederates,” says Longstreet, “that he was not instructed to fight
like Jackson.”

Court House; and the move to Pisgah Church, which left Gordonsville
unprotected, never entered into his calculations. A sudden attack
against his left was the last contingency that he anticipated; and
had the Confederates moved as Lee intended, there can be no question
but that the Federal army, deprived of all supplies, cut off from
Washington, and forced to fight on ground where it was unprepared,
would have been disastrously defeated.

But it was not to be.
The design was thwarted by one of those petty accidents which play
so large a part in war. Stuart had been instructed to lead the
advance. The only brigade at his disposal had not yet come up into
line, but a message had been sent to appoint a rendezvous, and it
was expected to reach Verdiersville, five miles from Raccoon Ford,
on the night of the 17th. Stuart’s message, however, was not
sufficiently explicit. Nothing was said of the exigencies of the
situation; and the brigadier, General Fitzhugh Lee, not realising
the importance of reaching Verdiersville on the 17th, marched by a
circuitous route in order to replenish his supplies. At nightfall he
was still absent, and the omission of a few words in a simple order
cost the Confederates dear. Moreover, Stuart himself, who had ridden
to Verdiersville with a small escort, narrowly escaped capture. His
plumed hat, with which the whole army was familiar, as well as his
adjutant-general and his dispatch-box, fell into the hands of a
Federal reconnoitring party; and among the papers brought to Pope
was found a letter from General Lee, disclosing the fact that
Jackson had been strongly reinforced.

In consequence of the
absence of Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade, the movement was postponed until
the morning of the 20th. The Commander-in-Chief was of opinion that
the horses, exhausted by their long march, would require some rest
before they were fit for the hard work he proposed for them.
Jackson, for once in opposition, urged that the movement should go
forward. His signal officer on Clark’s Mountain reported that the
enemy was quiet, and even extending his right up stream. The
location of the Federal divisions had been already ascertained. The

cavalry was not required to get information. There was no need,
therefore, to wait till Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade was fit for movement.
Jackson had, with his own command, a sufficient number of squadrons
to protect the front and flanks of the whole army; and the main
object was not to cut the enemy’s communications, but to turn his
left and annihilate him. Pope was still isolated, still unconscious
of his danger, and the opportunity might never return.

The
suggestion, however, was overruled, and “it was fortunate,” says one
of Pope’s generals, “that Jackson was not in command of the
Confederates on the night of August 17; for the superior force of
the enemy must have overwhelmed us, if we could not have escaped,
and escape on that night was impossible.”1

It is
probable, however, that other causes induced General Lee to hold his
hand. There is good reason to believe that it was not only the
cavalry that was unprepared. The movement from Richmond had been
rapid, and both vehicles and supplies had been delayed. Nor were all
the generals so avaricious of time as Jackson. It was impossible, it
was urged, to move without some food in the waggons. Jackson replied
that the enemy had a large magazine at Brandy Station, which might
easily be captured, and that the intervening district promised an
abundance of ripening corn and green apples. It was decided,
however, that such fare, on which, it may be said, the Confederates
learned afterwards to subsist for many days in succession, was too
meagre for the work in hand. Jackson, runs the story, groaned so
audibly when Lee pronounced in favour of postponement, that
Longstreet called the attention of the Commander-in-Chief to his
apparent disrespect.

August 18 Be
this as it may, had it been possible to adopt Jackson’s advice, the
Federal army would have been caught in the execution of a difficult
manœuvre. On the morning of the 18th, about the very hour that the
advance should have begun, Pope was informed by a spy that the
Confederate army was assembled behind Clark’s

Mountain and the neighbouring hills; that the artillery horses were
harnessed, and that the troops were momentarily expecting orders to
cross the river and strike his rear. He at once made preparations
for retreat. The trains moved off to seek shelter behind the
Rappahannock, and the army followed, leaving the cavalry in
position, and marching as follows:—

Reno by
Stevensburg to Kelly’s Ford.Banks and
McDowell by Culpeper Court House and Brandy Station to
the Rappahannock railway bridge.Sigel by Rixeyville to Sulphur
Springs.

August 19 The march was
slow and halts were frequent. The long lines of waggons blocked
every road, and on the morning of August 19 the troops were still at
some distance from the Rappahannock, in neither condition nor
formation to resist a resolute attack.

August 20 The movement, however, was not discovered by the
Confederates until it had been more than four-and-twenty hours in
progress. General Lee, on August 19, had taken his stand on Clark’s
Mountain, but the weather was unfavourable for observation. Late in
the afternoon the haze lifted, and almost at the same moment the
remaining tents of the Federal army, fifteen miles away to the
north-west, suddenly vanished from the landscape, and great clouds
of dust, rising high above the woods, left it no longer doubtful
that Pope had taken the alarm. It was too late to interfere, and the
sun set on an army baffled of its prey. In the Confederate councils
there was some dismay, among the troops much heart-burning. Every
hour that was wasted brought nearer the junction of Pope and
McClellan, and the soldiers were well aware that a most promising
opportunity, which it was worth while living on green corn and
apples to secure, had been allowed to slip. Nevertheless, the
pursuit was prompt. By the light of the rising moon the advanced
guards plunged thigh-deep into the clear waters of the Rapidan, and
the whole army crossed by Raccoon and Somerville Fords. Stuart, with
Robertson’s and Fitzhugh Lee’s brigades, pressed forward on the
traces

of the retreating foe. Near Brandy Station the Federal cavalry made
a stubborn stand. The Confederates, covering a wide front, had
become separated. Robertson had marched through Stevensburg,
Fitzhugh Lee on Kelly’s Ford, an interval of six miles dividing the
two brigades; and when Robertson was met by Bayard’s squadrons,
holding a skirt of woods with dismounted men, it was several hours
before a sufficient force could be assembled to force the road.
Towards evening two of Fitzhugh Lee’s regiments came up, and the
Confederates were now concentrated in superior numbers. A series of
vigorous charges, delivered by successive regiments on a front of
fours, for the horsemen were confined to the road, hurried the
retreating Federals across the Rappahannock; but the presence of
infantry and guns near the railway bridge placed an effective
barrier in the way of further pursuit. Before nightfall Jackson’s
advanced guard reached Brandy Station, after a march of twenty
miles, and Longstreet bivouacked near Kelly’s Ford.

The
Rappahannock, a broad and rapid stream, with banks high and
well-timbered, now rolled between the hostile armies. Pope, by his
timely retreat, had gained a position where he could be readily
reinforced, and although the river, in consequence of the long
drought, had much dwindled from its usual volume, his front was
perfectly secure.

The situation with which the Confederate
commander had now to deal was beset by difficulties. The delay from
August 18 to August 20 had been most unfortunate. The Federals were
actually nearer Richmond than the Army of Northern Virginia, and if
McClellan, landing as Burnside had done at Aquia Creek, were to move
due south through Fredericksburg, he would find the capital but
feebly garrisoned. It was more probable, however, that he would
reinforce Pope, and Lee held fast to his idea of crushing his
enemies in detail. Aquia Creek was only thirty-five miles’ march
from the Rappahannock, but the disembarkation with horses, trains,
and artillery must needs be a lengthy process, and it might still be
possible, by skilful and swift

manœuvres, to redeem the time which had been already lost. But the
Federal position was very strong.

August
21 Early on the 21st it was ascertained that Pope’s whole
army was massed on the left bank of the Rappahannock, extending from
Kelly’s Ford to Hazel Run, and that a powerful artillery crowned the
commanding bluffs. To turn the line of the river from the south was
hardly practicable. The Federal cavalry was vigilant, and Pope would
have quietly fallen back on Washington. A turning movement from the
north was more promising, and during the day Stuart, supported by
Jackson, made vigorous efforts to find a passage across the river.
Covered by a heavy fire of artillery, the squadrons drove in a
regiment and a battery holding Beverley Ford, and spread their
patrols over the country on the left bank. It was soon evident,
however, that the ground was unsuitable for attack, and Stuart,
menaced by a strong force of infantry, withdrew his troopers across
the stream. Nothing further was attempted. Jackson went into bivouac
near St. James’s Church, and Longstreet closed in upon his right.

August 22 The next morning, in accordance with Lee’s orders
to “seek a more favourable place to cross higher up the river, and
thus gain the enemy’s right,” Jackson, still preceded by Stuart, and
concealing his march as far as possible in the woods, moved towards
the fords near Warrenton Springs. Longstreet, meanwhile, marched
towards the bridge at Rappahannock Station, where the enemy had
established a tête-de-pont, and bringing his guns into action
at every opportunity, made brisk demonstrations along the river.

Late in the afternoon, after an attack on his rear-guard at
Welford’s Mill had been repulsed by Trimble, reinforced by Hood,
Jackson, under a lowering sky, reached the ruined bridge at the
Sulphur Springs. Only a few of the enemy’s cavalry had been
descried, and he at once made preparations to effect the passage of
the Rappahannock. The 13th Georgia dashed through the ford, and
occupied the cottages of the little watering-place. Early’s brigade
and two batteries crossed by an old mill-dam, a mile below, and

took post on the ridge beyond. But heavy rain had begun to fall; the
night was closing in; and the river, swollen by the storms in the
mountains, was already rising. The difficulties of the passage
increased every moment, and the main body of the Valley army was
ordered into bivouac on the western bank. It was not, however, the
darkness of the ford or the precarious footing of the mill-dam that
held Jackson back from reinforcing his advanced guard, but the
knowledge that these dangerous roadways would soon be submerged by a
raging torrent. Early was, indeed, in peril, but it was better that
one brigade should take its chance of escape than that one half the
column should be cut off from the remainder.

August 23 Next morning the pioneers were ordered to repair
the bridge, while Longstreet, feinting strongly against the
tête-de-pont, gave Pope occupation. Early’s troops, under cover
of the woods, moved northward to the protection of a creek named
Great Run, and although the Federal cavalry kept close watch upon
him, no attack was made till nightfall. This was easily beaten back;
and Jackson, anxious to keep the attention of the enemy fixed on
this point, sent over another brigade.

August 24 At dawn on the 24th, however, as the Federals
were reported to be advancing in force, the detachment was brought
back to the Confederate bank. The men had been for two days and a
night without food or shelter. It was in vain that Early, after the
bridge had been restored, had requested to be withdrawn. Jackson
sent Lawton to reinforce him with the curt message: “Tell General
Early to hold his position;” and although the generals grumbled at
their isolation, Pope was effectually deluded into the conviction
that a serious attack had been repulsed, and that no further attempt
to turn his right was to be immediately apprehended. The
significance of Jackson’s action will be seen hereafter.

While
Jackson was thus mystifying the enemy, both Longstreet and Stuart
had been hard at work. The former, after an artillery contest of
several hours’ duration, had driven the enemy from his
tête-de-pont on the railway, and had burnt the bridge. The
latter, on the morning of the

22nd, had moved northward with the whole of the cavalry, except two
regiments, and had ridden round the Federal right. Crossing the
Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and Hart’s Mills, he marched
eastward without meeting a single hostile scout, and as evening fell
the column of 1,500 men and two pieces of artillery clattered into
Warrenton. The troopers dismounted in the streets. The horses were
fed and watered, and while the officers amused themselves by
registering their names, embellished with fantastic titles, at the
hotel, Stuart’s staff, questioning the throng of women and old men,
elicited important information. None of the enemy’s cavalry had been
seen in the vicinity for some days, and Pope’s supply trains were
parked at Catlett’s Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railway,
ten miles south-east. After an hour’s rest the force moved on, and
passing through Auburn village was caught by the same storm that had
cut off Early. The narrow roads became running streams, and the
creeks which crossed the line of march soon rose to the horses’
withers. But this was the very condition of the elements most
favourable for the enterprise. The enemy’s vedettes and patrols,
sheltering from the fury of the storm, were captured, one after
another, by the advanced guard, and the two brigades arrived at
Catlett’s Station without the Federals receiving the least notice of
their approach.

A moment’s halt, a short consultation, a
silent movement forward, and the astonished sentinels were
overpowered. Beyond were the encampments and the trains, guarded by
1,500 infantry and 500 horsemen. The night was dark—the darkest,
said Stuart, that he had ever known. Without a guide concerted
action seemed impossible. The rain still fell in torrents, and the
raiders, soaked to the skin, could only grope aimlessly in the
gloom. But just at this moment a negro was captured who recognised
Stuart, and who knew where Pope’s baggage and horses were to be
found. He was told to lead the way, and Colonel W. H. F. Lee, a son
of the Commander-in-Chief, was ordered to follow with his regiment.
The guide

led the column towards the headquarter tents. “Then there mingled
with the noise of the rain upon the canvas and the roar of the wind
in the forest the rushing sound of many horsemen, of loud voices,
and clashing sabres.” One of Pope’s staff officers, together with
the uniform and horses of the Federal commander, his treasure chest,
and his personal effects, fell into the hands of the Confederates,
and the greater part of the enemy’s troops, suddenly alarmed in the
deep darkness, dispersed into the woods. Another camp was quickly
looted, and the 1st and 5th Virginia Cavalry were sent across the
railway, riding without accident, notwithstanding the darkness, over
a high embankment with deep ditches on either side. But the Federal
guards had now rallied under cover, and the attack on the railway
waggons had to be abandoned. Another party had taken in hand the
main object of the expedition, the destruction of the railway bridge
over Cedar Run. The force which should have defended it was
surprised and scattered. The timbers, however, were by this time
thoroughly saturated, and only a few axes had been discovered. Some
Federal skirmishers maintained a heavy fire from the opposite bank,
and it was impossible to complete the work. The telegraph was more
easily dealt with; and shortly before daylight on the 23rd, carrying
with him 300 prisoners, including many officers, Stuart withdrew by
the light of the blazing camp, and after a march of sixty miles in
six-and-twenty hours, reached the Sulphur Springs before evening.

The most important result of this raid was the capture of Pope’s
dispatch book, containing most detailed information as to his
strength, dispositions, and designs; referring to the reinforcements
he expected, and disclosing his belief that the line of the
Rappahannock was no longer tenable. But the enterprise had an
indirect effect upon the enemy’s calculations, which was not without
bearing on the campaign. Pope believed that Stuart’s advance on
Catlett’s Station had been made in connection with Jackson’s attempt
to cross at Sulphur Springs; and the retreat of the cavalry,
combined with that of Early, seemed

to indicate that the movement to turn his right had been definitely
abandoned.

The Federal commander was soon to be undeceived.
Thrice had General Lee been baulked. The enemy, who should have been
annihilated on August 19, had gained six days’ respite. On the 20th
he had placed himself behind the Rappahannock. On the 22nd the
rising waters forbade Jackson’s passage at the Sulphur Springs; and
now, on the afternoon of the 24th, the situation was still
unchanged. Disregarding Longstreet’s demonstrations, Pope had
marched northward, keeping pace with Jackson, and his whole force
was concentrated on the great road which runs from the Sulphur
Springs through Warrenton and Gainesville to Washington and
Alexandria. He had answered move by countermove. Hitherto, except in
permitting Early to recross the river, he had made no mistake, and
he had gained time. He had marched over thirty miles, and executed
complicated manœuvres, without offering the Confederates an opening.
His position near the Sulphur Springs was as strong as that which he
had left on the lower reaches near the railway bridge. Moreover, the
correspondence in his dispatch book disclosed the fact that a
portion at least of McClellan’s army had landed at Aquia Creek, and
was marching to Bealtown;1 that a strong force, drawn
from the Kanawha Valley and elsewhere, was assembling at Washington;
and that 150,000 men might be concentrated within a few days on the
Rappahannock. Lee, on learning McClellan’s destination, immediately
asked that the troops which had been retained at Richmond should be
sent to join him. Mr. Davis assented, but it was not till the
request had been repeated and time lost that the divisions of D. H.
Hill and McLaws’, two brigades of infantry, under J. G. Walker, and
Hampton’s cavalry

1
Between August 21 and 25 Pope received the following reinforcements
for the Army of the Potomac, raising his strength to over 80,000
men:

brigade were ordered up. Yet these reinforcements only raised Lee’s
numbers to 75,000 men, and they were from eighty to a hundred miles
distant by an indifferent railroad.

Nor was it possible to
await their arrival. Instant action was imperative. But what action
was possible? A defensive attitude could only result in the
Confederate army being forced back by superior strength; and retreat
on Richmond would be difficult, for the Federals held the interior
lines. The offensive seemed out of the question. Pope’s position was
more favourable than before. His army was massed, and reinforcements
were close at hand. His right flank was well secured. The ford at
Sulphur Springs and the Waterloo Bridge were both in his possession;
north of the Springs rose the Bull Run Mountains, a range covered
with thick forest, and crossed by few roads; and his left was
protected by the march of McClellan’s army corps from Aquia Creek.
Even the genius of a Napoleon might well have been baffled by the
difficulties in the way of attack. But there were men in the
Confederate army to whom overwhelming numbers and strong positions
were merely obstacles to be overcome.

On August 24 Lee removed
his headquarters to Jefferson, where Jackson was already encamped,
and on the same evening, with Pope’s captured correspondence before
them, the two generals discussed the problem. What occurred at this
council of war was never made public. To use Lee’s words: “A plan of
operations was determined on;” but by whom it was suggested there is
none to tell us. “Jackson was so reticent,” writes Dr. McGuire,
“that it was only by accident that we ever found out what he
proposed to do, and there is no staff officer living (1897) who
could throw any light on this matter. The day before we started to
march round Pope’s army I saw Lee and Jackson conferring together.
Jackson—for him—was very much excited, drawing with the toe of his
boot a map in the sand, and gesticulating in a much more earnest way
than he was in the habit of doing. General Lee was simply listening,
and after Jackson had got through, he nodded his head, as if

acceding to some proposal. I believe, from what occurred afterwards,
that Jackson suggested the movement as it was made, but I have no
further proof than the incident I have just mentioned.”1
It is only certain that we have record of few enterprises of greater
daring than that which was then decided on; and no matter from whose
brain it emanated, on Lee fell the burden of the responsibility; on
his shoulders, and on his alone, rested the honour of the
Confederate arms, the fate of Richmond, the independence of the
South; and if we may suppose, so consonant was the design proposed
with the strategy which Jackson had already practised, that it was
to him its inception was due, it is still to Lee that we must assign
the higher merit. It is easy to conceive. It is less easy to
execute. But to risk cause and country, name and reputation, on a
single throw, and to abide the issue with unflinching heart, is the
supreme exhibition of the soldier’s fortitude.

Lee’s decision
was to divide his army. Jackson, marching northwards, was to cross
the Bull Run Mountains at Thoroughfare Gap, ten miles as the crow
flies from the enemy’s right, and strike the railway which formed
Pope’s line of supply. The Federal commander, who would meanwhile be
held in play by Longstreet, would be compelled to fall back in a
north-easterly direction to save his communications, and thus be
drawn away from McClellan. Longstreet would then follow Jackson, and
it was hoped that the Federals, disconcerted by these movements,
might be attacked in detail or forced to fight at a disadvantage.
The risk, however, was very great.

An army of 55,000 men was
about to march into a region occupied by 100,000,2 who
might easily be reinforced to 150,000; and it was to march in two
wings,

1 Letter to the author.2
Pope, 80,000; Washington and Aquia Creek, 20,000. Lee was well
aware, from the correspondence which Stuart had captured, if indeed
he had not already inferred it, that Pope had been strictly enjoined
to cover Washington, and that he was dependent on the railway for
supplies. There was not the slightest fear of his falling back
towards Aquia Creek to join McClellan.

separated from each other by two days’ march. If Pope were to
receive early warning of Jackson’s march, he might hurl his whole
force on one or the other. Moreover, defeat, with both Pope and
McClellan between the Confederates and Richmond, spelt ruin and
nothing less. But as Lee said after the war, referring to the
criticism evoked by manœuvres, in this as in other of his campaigns,
which were daring even to rashness, “Such criticism is obvious, but
the disparity of force between the contending forces rendered the
risks unavoidable.”1 In the present case the only
alternative was an immediate retreat; and retreat, so long as the
enemy was not fully concentrated, and there was a chance of dealing
with him in detail, was a measure which neither Lee nor Jackson was
ever willing to advise.

On the evening of the 24th Jackson
began his preparations for the most famous of his marches. His
troops were quietly withdrawn from before the Sulphur Springs, and
Longstreet’s division, unobserved by the Federals, took their place.
Captain Boswell was ordered to report on the most direct and hidden
route to Manassas Junction, and the three divisions—Ewell’s, Hill’s,
and the Stonewall, now commanded by Taliaferro—assembled near
Jefferson. Three days’ cooked rations were to be carried in the
haversacks, and a herd of cattle, together with the green corn
standing in the fields, was relied upon for subsistence until
requisition could be made on the Federal magazines. The troops
marched light. Knapsacks were left behind. Tin cans and a few
frying-pans formed the only camp equipment, and many an officer’s
outfit consisted of a few badly baked biscuits and a handful of
salt.

August 26 Long before dawn
the divisions were afoot. The men were hungry, and their rest had
been short; but they were old acquaintances of the morning star, and
to march while the east was still grey had become a matter of
routine. But as their guides led northward, and the sound of the
guns, opening along the Rappahannock, grew fainter and fainter, a
certain excitement began to pervade the column. Something mysterious
was in the air.

What their movement portended not the shrewdest of the soldiers
could divine; but they recalled their marches in the Valley and
their inevitable results, and they knew instinctively that a
surprise on a still larger scale was in contemplation. The thought
was enough. Asking no questions, and full of enthusiasm, they
followed with quick step the leader in whom their confidence had
become so absolute. The flood had subsided on the Upper
Rappahannock, and the divisions forded it at Hinson’s Mill,
unmolested and apparently unobserved. Without halting it pressed on,
Boswell with a small escort of cavalry leading the way. The march
led first by Amissville, thence north to Orleans, beyond Hedgeman’s
River, and thence to Salem, a village on the Manassas Gap Railroad.
Where the roads diverged from the shortest line the troops took to
the fields. Guides were stationed by the advanced guard at each gap
and gate which marked the route. Every precaution was taken to
conceal the movement. The roads in the direction of the enemy were
watched by cavalry, and so far as possible the column was directed
through woods and valleys. The men, although they knew nothing of
their destination, whether Winchester, or Harper’s Ferry, or even
Washington itself, strode on mile after mile, through field and
ford, in the fierce heat of the August noon, without question or
complaint. “Old Jack” had asked them to do their best, and that was
enough to command their most strenuous efforts.

Near the end
of the day Jackson rode to the head of the leading brigade, and
complimented the officers on the fine condition of the troops and
the regularity of the march. They had made more than twenty miles,
and were still moving briskly, well closed up, and without
stragglers. Then, standing by the wayside, he watched his army pass.
The sun was setting, and the rays struck full on his familiar face,
brown with exposure, and his dusty uniform. Ewell’s division led the
way, and when the men saw their general, they prepared to salute him
with their usual greeting. But as they began to cheer he raised his
hand to stop them, and the word passed down the column, “Don’t
shout, boys, the

Yankees will hear us;” and the soldiers contented themselves with
swinging their caps in mute acclamation. When the next division
passed a deeper flush spread over Jackson’s face. Here were the men
he had so often led to triumph, the men he had trained himself, the
men of the Valley, of the First Manassas, of Kernstown, and
McDowell. The Stonewall regiments were before him, and he was unable
to restrain them; devotion such as theirs was not to be silenced at
such a moment, and the wild battle-yell of his own brigade set his
pulses tingling. For once a breach of discipline was condoned. “It
is of no use,” said Jackson, turning to his staff, “you see I can’t
stop them;” and then, with a sudden access of intense pride in his
gallant veterans, he added, half to himself, “Who could fail to win
battles with such men as these?”

It was midnight before the
column halted near Salem village, and the men, wearied outright with
their march of six-and-twenty miles, threw themselves on the ground
by the piles of
muskets, without even
troubling to unroll their blankets. So far the movement had been
entirely successful. Not a Federal had been seen, and none appeared
during the warm midsummer night. Yet the soldiers were permitted
scant time for rest. Once more they were aroused while the stars
were bright; and, half awake, snatching what food they could, they
stumbled forward through the darkness.

August 26 As the cool breath of the morning rose about
them, the dark forests of the Bull Run Mountains became gradually
visible in the faint light of the eastern sky, and the men at last
discovered whither their general was leading them. With the
knowledge, which spread quickly through the ranks, that they were
making for the communications of the boaster Pope, the regiments
stepped out with renewed energy. “There was no need for speech, no
breath to spare if there had been—only the shuffling tramp of
marching feet, the rumbling of wheels, the creak and clank of
harness and accoutrements, with an occasional order, uttered under
the breath, and always the same: ‘Close up, men! Close up!’ ”1

Through Thoroughfare Gap, a narrow gorge in the Bull Run range, with
high cliffs, covered with creepers and crowned with pines on either
hand, the column wound steadily upwards; and, gaining the higher
level, the troops looked down on the open country to the eastward.
Over a vast area of alternate field and forest, bounded by distant
uplands, the shadows of the clouds were slowly sailing. Issuing from
the mouth of the pass, and trending a little to the south-east, ran
the broad high-road, passing through two tiny hamlets, Haymarket and
Gainesville, and climbing by gentle gradients to a great bare
plateau, familiar to the soldiers of Bull Run under the name of
Manassas Plains. At Gainesville this road was crossed by another,
which, lost in dense woods, appeared once more on the open heights
to the far north-east, where the white buildings of
Centreville
glistened in the sunshine. The second road was the Warrenton and
Alexandria highway, the direct line of communication between
Pope’s army and
Washington, and it is not difficult to divine the anxiety with which
it was scrutinised by Jackson. If his march had been detected, a far
superior force might already be moving to intercept him. At any
moment the news might come in that the Federal army was rapidly
approaching; and even were that not the case, it seemed hardly
possible that the Confederate column, betrayed by the dust, could
escape the observation of passing patrols or orderlies. But not a
solitary scout was visible; no movement was reported from the
direction of Warrenton; and the troops pressed on, further and
further round the Federal rear, further and further from Lee and
Longstreet. The cooked rations which they carried had been consumed
or thrown away; there was no time for the slaughter and distribution
of the cattle; but the men took tribute from the fields and
orchards, and green corn and green apples were all the morning meal
that many of them enjoyed. At Gainesville the column was joined by
Stuart, who had maintained a fierce artillery fight at Waterloo
Bridge the previous day; and then, slipping quietly away under cover
of the darkness, had marched at two in the morning to cover

Jackson’s flank. The sun was high in the heavens, and still the
enemy made no sign. Munford’s horsemen, forming the advanced guard,
had long since reached the Alexandria turnpike, sweeping up all
before them, and neither patrols nor orderlies had escaped to carry
the news to Warrenton.

So the point of danger was safely
passed, and thirteen miles in rear of Pope’s headquarters, right
across the communications he had told his troops to disregard, the
long column swung swiftly forward in the noonday heat. Not a sound,
save the muffled roll of many wheels, broke the stillness of the
tranquil valley; only the great dust cloud, rolling always eastward
up the slopes of the Manassas plateau, betrayed the presence of war.

Beyond Gainesville Jackson took the road which led to Bristoe
Station, some seven miles south of Manassas Junction. Neither the
success which had hitherto accompanied his movement, nor the
excitement incident on his situation, had overbalanced his judgment.
From Gainesville the Junction might have been reached in little more
than an hour’s march; and prudence would have recommended a swift
dash at the supply depôt, swift destruction, and swift escape. But
it was always possible that Pope might have been alarmed, and the
railroad from Warrenton Junction supplied him with the means of
throwing a strong force of infantry rapidly to his rear. In order to
obstruct such a movement Jackson had determined to seize Bristoe
Station. Here, breaking down the railway bridge over Broad Run, and
establishing his main body in an almost impregnable position behind
the stream, he could proceed at his leisure with the destruction of
the stores at Manassas Junction. The advantages promised by this
manœuvre more than compensated for the increased length of the
march.

The sun had not yet set when the advanced guard arrived
within striking distance of Bristoe Station. Munford’s squadrons,
still leading the way, dashed upon the village. Ewell followed in
hot haste, and a large portion of the guard, consisting of two
companies, one of cavalry and one of infantry, was immediately
captured.

A train returning empty from Warrenton Junction to Alexandria darted
through the station under a heavy fire.1 The line was
then torn up, and two trains which followed in the same direction as
the first were thrown down a high embankment. A fourth, scenting
danger ahead, moved back before it reached the break in the road.
The column had now closed up, and it was already dark. The escape of
the two trains was most unfortunate. It would soon be known, both at
Alexandria and Warrenton, that Manassas Junction was in danger. The
troops had marched nearly five-and-twenty miles, but if the object
of the expedition was to be accomplished, further exertions were
absolutely necessary. Trimble, energetic as ever, volunteered with
two regiments, the 21st Georgia and 21st North Carolina, to move on
Manassas Junction. Stuart was placed in command, and without a
moment’s delay the detachment moved northward through the woods. The
night was hot and moonless. The infantry moved in order of battle,
the skirmishers in advance; and pushing slowly forward over a broken
country, it was nearly midnight before they reached the Junction.
Half a mile from the depôt their advance was greeted by a salvo of
shells. The Federal garrison, warned by the fugitives from Bristoe
Station, were on the alert; but so harmless was their fire that
Trimble’s men swept on without a check. The two regiments, one on
either side of the railroad, halted within a hundred yards of the
Federal guns. The countersign was passed down the ranks, and the
bugles sounded the charge. The Northern gunners, without waiting for
the onset, fled through the darkness, and two batteries, each with
its full complement of guns and waggons, became the prize of the
Confederate infantry. Stuart, coming up on the flank, rode down the
fugitives. Over 300 prisoners were taken, and the remainder of the
garrison streamed northward through the deserted camps. The results
of

1 The report received at Alexandria
from Manassas Junction ran as follows: “No. 6 train, engine
Secretary, was fired into at Bristoe by a party of cavalry, some 500
strong. They had piled ties on the track, but the engine threw them
off. Secretary is completely riddled by bullets.”

this attack more than compensated for the exertions the troops had
undergone. Only 15 Confederates had been wounded, and the supplies
on which Pope’s army, whether it was intended to move against
Longstreet or merely to hold the line of the Rappahannock, depended
both for food and ammunition were in Jackson’s hands.

August 27 The next morning Hill’s and Taliaferro’s
divisions joined Trimble. Ewell remained at Bristoe; cavalry patrols
were sent out in every direction, and Jackson, riding to Manassas,
saw before him the reward of his splendid march. Streets of
warehouses, stored to overflowing, had sprung up round the Junction.
A line of freight cars, two miles in length, stood upon the railway.
Thousands of barrels, containing flour, pork, and biscuit, covered
the neighbouring fields. Brand-new ambulances were packed in regular
rows. Field-ovens, with the fires still smouldering, and all the
paraphernalia of a large bakery, attracted the wondering gaze of the
Confederate soldiery; while great pyramids of shot and shell, piled
with the symmetry of an arsenal, testified to the profusion with
which the enemy’s artillery was supplied.

It was a strange
commentary on war. Washington was but a long day’s march to the
north; Warrenton, Pope’s headquarters, but twelve miles distant to
the south-west; and along the Rappahannock, between Jackson and Lee,
stood the tents of a host which outnumbered the whole Confederate
army. No thought of danger had entered the minds of those who
selected Manassas Junction as the depôt of the Federal forces. Pope
had been content to leave a small guard as a protection against
raiding cavalry. Halleck, concerned only with massing the whole army
on the Rappahannock, had used every effort to fill the storehouses.
If, he thought, there was one place in Virginia where the
Stars and Stripes might be displayed in full security, that
place was Manassas Junction; and here, as nowhere else, the wealth
of the North had been poured out with a prodigality such as had
never been seen in war. To feed, clothe, and equip the Union armies
no expenditure was

deemed extravagant. For the comfort and well-being of the individual
soldier the purse-strings of the nation were freely loosed. No
demand, however preposterous, was disregarded. The markets of Europe
were called upon to supply the deficiencies of the States; and if
money could have effected the re-establishment of the Union, the war
would have already reached a triumphant issue. But the Northern
Government had yet to learn that the accumulation of men, materiel,
and supplies is not in itself sufficient for success. Money alone
cannot provide good generals, a trained staff, or an efficient
cavalry; and so on this August morning 20,000 ragged Confederates,
the soldiers of a country which ranked as the poorest of nations,
had marched right round the rear of the Federal army, and were now
halted in undisturbed possession of all that made that army an
effective force.

Few generals have occupied a position so
commanding as did Jackson on the morning of August 27. His enemies
would henceforward have to dance while he piped. It was Jackson, and
not Pope, who was to dictate the movements of the Federal army. It
was impossible that the latter could now maintain its position on
the Rappahannock, and Lee’s strategy had achieved its end. The
capture of Manassas Junction, however, was only the first step in
the campaign. Pope, to restore his communications with Alexandria,
would be compelled to fall back; but before he could be defeated the
two Confederate wings must be united, and the harder part of the
work would devolve on Jackson. The Federals, at Warrenton, were
nearer by five miles to Thoroughfare Gap, his shortest line of
communication with Lee and Longstreet, than he was himself.
Washington held a large garrison, and the railway was available for
the transit of the troops. The fugitives from Manassas must already
have given the alarm, and at any moment the enemy might appear.

If there were those in the Confederate ranks who considered the
manœuvres of their leader overbold, their misgivings were soon
justified.

A train full of soldiers from Warrenton Junction put back on finding
Ewell in possession of Bristoe Station; but a more determined effort
was made from the direction of Alexandria. So early as seven o’clock
a brigade of infantry, accompanied by a battery, detrained on the
north bank of Bull Run, and advanced in battle order against the
Junction.1 The Federals, unaware that the depôt was held
in strength, expected to drive before them a few squadrons of
cavalry. But when several batteries opened a heavy fire, and heavy
columns advanced against their flanks, the men broke in flight
towards the bridge. The Confederate infantry followed rapidly, and
two Ohio regiments, which had just arrived from the Kanawha Valley,
were defeated with heavy loss. Fitzhugh Lee, who had fallen back
before the enemy’s advance, was then ordered in pursuit. The cars
and railway bridge were destroyed; and during the day the brigade
followed the fugitives as far as Burke’s Station, only twelve miles
from Alexandria.

This feeble attack appears to have convinced
Jackson that his danger was not pressing. It was evident that the
enemy had as yet no idea of his strength. Stuart’s cavalry watched
every road; Ewell held a strong position on Broad Run, barring the
direct approach from Warrenton Junction, and it was determined to
give the wearied soldiers the remainder of the day for rest and
pillage. It was impossible to carry away even a tithe of the stores,
and when an issue of rations had been made, the bakery set working,
and the liquor placed under guard, the regiments were let loose on
the magazines. Such an opportunity occurs but seldom in the
soldiers’ service, and the hungry Confederates were not the men to
let it pass. “Weak and haggard from their diet of green corn and
apples, one can well imagine,” says Gordon, “with what surprise
their eyes opened upon the contents of the sutlers’ stores,
containing an amount and

1 These troops
were sent forward, without cavalry, by order of
General Halleck. O.R., vol. xii,
part iii, p. 680. The Federal Commander-in-Chief expected that the
opposition would be slight. He had evidently no suspicion of the
length to which the daring of Lee and Jackson might have carried
them.

variety of property such as they had never conceived. Then came a
storming charge of men rushing in a tumultuous mob over each other’s
heads, under each other’s feet, anywhere, everywhere, to satisfy a
craving stronger than a yearning for fame. There were no laggards in
that charge, and there was abundant evidence of the fruits of
victory. Men ragged and famished clutched tenaciously at whatever
came in their way, whether of clothing or food, of luxury or
necessity. Here a long yellow-haired, barefooted son of the South
claimed as prizes a toothbrush, a box of candles, a barrel of
coffee; while another, whose butternut homespun hung round him in
tatters, crammed himself with lobster salad, sardines, potted game
and sweetmeats, and washed them down with Rhenish wine. Nor was the
outer man neglected. From piles of new clothing the Southerners
arrayed themselves in the blue uniforms of the Federals. The naked
were clad, the barefooted were shod, and the sick provided with
luxuries to which they had long been strangers.”1

The history of war records many extraordinary scenes, but there are
few more ludicrous than this wild revel at Manassas. Even the
chagrin of Northern writers gives way before the spectacle; and
Jackson must have smiled grimly when he thought of the maxim which
Pope had promulgated with such splendid confidence: “Let us study
the probable lines of retreat of our opponents, and leave our own to
take care of themselves!”

It was no time, however, to indulge
in reflections on the irony of fortune. All through the afternoon,
while the sharp-set Confederates were sweeping away the profits
which the Northern sutlers had wrung from Northern soldiers,
Stuart’s vigilant patrols sent in report on report of the Federal
movements. From Warrenton heavy columns were hurrying over the great
highroad to Gainesville, and from Warrenton Junction a large force
of all arms was marching direct on Bristoe. There was news, too,
from Lee. Despite the distance to be covered, and the

proximity of the enemy, a trooper of the Black Horse, a regiment of
young planters which now formed Jackson’s Escort, disguised as a
countryman, made his way back from headquarters, and Jackson learned
that Longstreet, who had started the previous evening, was following
his own track by Orleans, Salem, and Thoroughfare Gap.1
It was evident, then, that the whole Federal army was in motion
northwards, and that Longstreet had crossed the Rappahannock. But
Longstreet had many miles to march and Thoroughfare Gap to pass
before he could lend assistance; and the movement of the enemy on
Gainesville threatened to intervene between the widely separated
wings of the Confederate army.

It was no difficult matter for
Jackson to decide on the course to be adopted. There was but one
thing to do, to retreat at once; and only one line of escape still
open, the roads leading north and north-west from Manassas Junction.
To remain at Manassas and await Lee’s arrival would have been to
sacrifice his command. 20,000 men, even with the protection of
intrenchments, could hardly hope to hold the whole Federal army at
bay for two days; and it was always possible that Pope, blocking
Thoroughfare Gap with a portion of his force, might delay Lee for
even longer than two days. Nor did it recommend itself to Jackson as
sound strategy to move south, attack the Federal column approaching
Bristoe, and driving it from his path to escape past the rear of the
column moving to Gainesville. The exact position of the Federal
troops was far from clear. Large forces might be encountered near
the Rappahannock, and part of McClellan’s army was known to be
marching westward from Aquia Creek. Moreover, such a movement would
have accentuated the separation of the Confederate wings, and a
local success over a portion of the hostile army would have been but
a poor substitute for the decisive victory which Lee hoped to win
when his whole force was once more concentrated.

1 “Up to the night of August 28 we received,” says Longstreet,
“reports from General Jackson at regular intervals, assuring us of
his successful operation, and of confidence in his ability to baffle
all efforts of the enemy, till we should reach him.” Battles and
Leaders, vol. ii, p. 517.

About three in the afternoon the thunder of artillery was heard from
the direction of Bristoe. Ewell had sent a brigade along the
railroad to support some cavalry on reconnaissance, and to destroy a
bridge over Kettle Run. Hardly had the latter task been accomplished
when a strong column of Federal infantry emerged from the forest and
deployed for action. Hooker’s division of 5,500 men, belonging to
McClellan’s army, had joined Pope on the same day that Jackson had
crossed the Rappahannock, and had been dispatched northwards from
Warrenton Junction as soon as the news came in that Manassas
Junction had been captured.
Hooker had been
instructed to ascertain the strength of the enemy at Manassas, for
Pope was still under the impression that the attack on his rear was
nothing more than a repetition of the raid on Catlett’s Station.
Striking the Confederate outposts at Kettle Run, he deployed his
troops in three lines and pushed briskly forward. The batteries on
both sides opened, and after a hot skirmish of an hour’s duration
Ewell, who had orders not to risk an engagement with superior
forces, found that his flanks were threatened. In accordance with
his instructions he directed his three brigades to retire in
succession across Broad Run. This difficult manœuvre was
accomplished with trifling loss, and Hooker, ascertaining that
Jackson’s whole corps, estimated at 30,000 men, was near at hand,
advanced no further than the stream. Ewell fell back slowly to the
Junction; and shortly after midnight the three Confederate divisions
had disappeared into the darkness. The torch had already been set to
the captured stores; warehouses, trains, camps, and hospitals were
burning fiercely, and the dark figures of Stuart’s troopers, still
urging on the work, passed to and fro amid the flames. Of the value
of property destroyed it is difficult to arrive at an estimate.
Jackson, in his official report, enumerates the various items with
an unction which he must have inherited from some moss-trooping
ancestor. Yet the actual quantity mattered little, for the stores
could be readily replaced. But the effect of their destruction on
the Federal operations was for the time being overwhelming. And of
this

destruction Pope himself was a witness. The fight with Ewell had
just ceased, and the troops were going into bivouac, when the
Commander-in-Chief, anxious to ascertain with his own eyes the
extent of the danger to which he was exposed, reached Bristoe
Station. There, while the explosion of the piles of shells resembled
the noise of a great battle, from the ridge above Broad Run he saw
the sky to the north-east lurid with the blaze of a vast
conflagration; and there he learned for the first time that it was
no mere raid of cavalry, but Stonewall Jackson, with his whole army
corps, who stood between himself and Washington.

For the best
part of three days the Union general had been completely mystified.
Jackson had left Jefferson on the 25th. But although his march had
been seen by the Federal signaller on the hills near Waterloo
Bridge,1 and the exact strength of his force had been
reported, his destination had been unsuspected. When the column was
last seen it was moving northward from Orleans, but the darkness had
covered it, and the measure of prolonging the march to midnight bore
good fruit. For the best part of two days Jackson had vanished from
his enemy’s view, to be found by Pope himself at Manassas Junction.2
Nevertheless, although working in the dark, the Federal commander,
up to the moment he reached Bristoe Station, had acted with sound
judgment. He had inferred from the reports of his signalmen that
Jackson was marching to Front Royal on the Shenandoah; but in order
to clear up the situation, on the 26th
Sigel and McDowell were
ordered to force the passage of the Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge
and the Sulphur Springs, and obtain information of the enemy’s
movements. Reno, at the same time, was to

1
Five messages were sent in between 8.45 a.m. and 11 a.m., but
evidently reached headquarters much later. O.R., vol. xii, part iii,
pp. 654–5.2 There is a curious undated report on page 671,
O.R., vol. xii, part iii, from Colonel Duffie, a French officer in
the Federal service, which speaks of a column passing through
Thoroughfare Gap; but, although the compilers of the Records have
placed it under the date August 26, it seems evident, as this
officer (see page 670) was at Rappahannock Station on the
26th and 27th (O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 688), that the report
refers to Longstreet’s and not Jackson’s troops, and was written on
August 28.

cross below the railway bridge and make for Culpeper. The manœuvres,
however, were not carried out as contemplated. Only McDowell
advanced; and as Lee had replaced Longstreet, who marched to Orleans
the same afternoon, by Anderson, but little was discovered.

It was evident, however, that the Confederates were trending
steadily northwards, and on the night of the 26th Pope ordered his
80,000 Federals to concentrate in the neighbourhood of Warrenton.
Reports had come in that hostile troops had passed through Salem,
White Plains, and Thoroughfare Gap.1 But it seemed
improbable, both to Pope and McDowell, the second in command, that
more was meant by this than a flank attack on Warrenton. McDowell
expressed his opinion that a movement round the right wing in the
direction of Alexandria was far too hazardous for the enemy to
attempt. Pope appears to have acquiesced, and a line of battle near
Warrenton, with a strong reserve at Greenwich, to the right rear,
was then decided on. Franklin’s army corps from the Peninsula,
instead of proceeding to Aquia Creek, was disembarking at
Alexandria, and
Halleck had been requested to
push these 10,000 men forward with all speed to Gainesville. The
Kanawha regiments had also reached Washington, and Pope was under
the impression that these too would be sent to join him. He had
therefore but little apprehension for his rear. The one error of
judgment into which both Pope and McDowell had been betrayed was in
not giving Lee due credit for audacity or Jackson for energy. That
Lee would dare to divide his army they had never conceived; that
Jackson would march fifty miles in two days and place his single
corps astride their communications was an idea which had they
thought of they would have instantly dismissed. Like the Austrian
generals when they first confronted Napoleon, they might well have
complained that their enemy broke every rule of the military art;
and like all generals who believe that war is a mere matter of
precedent, they found themselves egregiously deceived.

The capture
of Manassas, to use Pope’s own words, rendered his position at
Warrenton no longer tenable, and early on the 27th, the army,
instead of concentrating on Warrenton, was ordered to move to
Gainesville (from Gainesville it was easy to block Thoroughfare
Gap); Buford’s cavalry brigade was thrown out towards White Plains
to observe Longstreet, and Hooker was dispatched to clear up the
situation at Manassas. This move, which was completed before
nightfall, could hardly have been improved upon. The whole Federal
army was now established on the direct line of communication between
Jackson and Lee, and although Jackson might still escape, the
Confederates had as yet gained no advantage beyond the destruction
of Pope’s supplies. It seemed impossible that the two wings could
combine east of the Bull Run Mountains. But on the evening of the
27th, after the conclusion of the engagement at Bristoe Station,
Pope lost his head. The view he now took of the situation was
absolutely erroneous. Ewell’s retreat before Hooker he interpreted
as an easy victory, which fully compensated for the loss of his
magazines. He imagined that Jackson had been surprised, and that no
other course was open to him than to take refuge in the
intrenchments of Manassas Junction and await Lee’s arrival. Orders
were at once issued for a manœuvre which should ensure the defeat of
the presumptuous foe. The Federal army corps, marching in three
columns, were called up to Manassas, a movement which would leave
Thoroughfare Gap unguarded save by Buford’s cavalry. Some were to
move at midnight, others “at the very earliest blush of dawn.” “We
shall bag the whole crowd, if they are prompt and expeditious,”1
said Pope, with a sad lapse from the poetical phraseology he had
just employed.

August 28
And so, on the morning of the 28th, a Federal army once more set out
with the expectation of surrounding Jackson, to find once more that
the task was beyond their powers.

Bristoe Station until Hooker had been reinforced by Kearney and
Reno; McDowell, before he turned east from Gainesville, was delayed
by Sigel’s trains, which crossed his line of march, and it was not
till noon that Hooker’s advanced guard halted amid the still
smouldering ruins on the Manassas plateau. The march had been
undisturbed. The redoubts were untenanted. The woods to the north
were silent. A few grey-coated vedettes watched the operations from
far-distant ridges; a few stragglers, overcome perhaps by their
Gargantuan meal of the previous evening, were picked up in the
copses, but Jackson’s divisions had vanished from the earth.

Then came order and counter-order. Pope was completely bewildered.
By four o’clock, however, the news arrived that the railway at
Burke’s Station, within twelve miles of Alexandria, had been cut,
and that the enemy was in force between that point and Centreville.
On Centreville, therefore, the whole army was now directed; Hooker,
Kearney, and Reno, forming the right wing, marched by Blackburn’s
Ford, and were to be followed by Porter and Banks; Sigel and
Reynolds, forming the centre, took the road by New Market and the
Stone Bridge; McDowell (King’s and Ricketts’ divisions), forming the
left, was to pass through Gainesville and Groveton. But when the
right wing reached Centreville, Pope was still at fault. There were
traces of a marching column, but some small patrols of cavalry, who
retreated leisurely before the Federal advance, were the sole
evidence of the enemy’s existence. Night was at hand, and as the
divisions he accompanied were directed to their bivouacs, Pope
sought in vain for the enemy he had believed so easy a prey.

Before his troops halted the knowledge came to him. Far away to the
south-west, where the great Groveton valley, backed by the wooded
mountains, lay green and beautiful, rose the dull booming of cannon,
swelling to a continuous roar; and as the weary soldiers, climbing
the slopes near Centreville, looked eagerly in the direction of the
sound, the rolling smoke of a fierce battle was distinctly visible
above the woods which bordered the Warrenton-Alexandria highway.

Across Bull Run, in the neighbourhood of Groveton, and still further
westward, where the cleft in the blue hills marked Thoroughfare Gap,
was seen the flash of distant guns. McDowell, marching northwards
through Gainesville, had evidently come into collision with the
enemy. Jackson was run to earth at last; and it was now clear that
while Pope had been moving northwards on Centreville, the
Confederates had been moving westward, and that they were once more
within reach of Lee. But by what means, Pope might well have asked,
had a whole army corps, with its batteries and waggons, passed
through the cordon which he had planned to throw around it, and
passed through as if gifted with the secret of invisibility?

The explanation was simple. While his enemies were watching the
midnight glare above Manassas, Jackson was moving north by three
roads; and before morning broke A. P. Hill was near Centreville,
Ewell had crossed Bull Run by Blackburn’s Ford, and Taliaferro was
north of Bald Hill, with a brigade at Groveton, while Stuart’s
squadrons formed a screen to front and flank. Then, as the Federals
slowly converged on Manassas, Hill and Ewell, marching unobserved
along the north bank of Bull Run, crossed the Stone Bridge;
Taliaferro joined them, and before Pope had found that his enemy had
left the Junction, the Confederates were in bivouac north of
Groveton, hidden in the woods, and recovering from the fatigue of
their long night march.1

Jackson’s arrangements for
deceiving his enemy, for concealing his line of retreat, and for
drawing Pope northward on Centreville, had been carefully thought
out. The march from Manassas was no hasty movement to the rear.
Taliaferro, as soon as darkness fell, had moved by New Market on
Bald Hill. At 1 a.m. Ewell followed Hill to Blackburn’s Ford; but
instead of continuing the march on Centrevile, had crossed Bull Run,
and moving up stream, had joined Taliaferro by way of the Stone
Bridge. Hill, leaving Centreville at 10 a.m.,

1
A. P. Hill had marched fourteen miles, Ewell fifteen, and
Taliaferro, with whom were the trains, from eight to ten.

marched to the same rendezvous. Thus, while the attention of the
enemy was attracted to Centreville, Jackson’s divisions were
concentrated in the woods beyond Bull Bun, some five or six miles
west. The position in which his troops were resting had been
skilfully selected. South of Sudley Springs, and north of the
Warrenton turnpike, it was within twelve miles of Thoroughfare Gap,
and a line of retreat, in case of emergency, as well as a line by
which Lee could join him, should Thoroughfare Gap be blocked, ran to
Aldie Gap, the northern pass of the Bull Run Mountains. Established
on his enemy’s flank, he could avoid the full shock of his force
should Lee be delayed, or he could strike effectively himself; and
it was to retain the power of striking that he had not moved further
northward, and secured his front by camping beyond Catharpen Run. It
was essential that he should be prepared for offensive action. The
object with which he had marched upon Manassas had only been half
accomplished. Pope had been compelled to abandon the strong line of
the Rappahannock, but he had not yet been defeated; and if he were
not defeated, he would combine with McClellan, and advance in a few
days in overwhelming force. Lee looked for a battle with Pope before
he could be reinforced, and to achieve this end it was necessary
that the Federal commander should be prevented from retreating
further; that Jackson should hold him by the throat until Lee should
come up to administer the coup de grâce.

It was with
this purpose in his mind that Jackson had taken post near Groveton,
and he was now awaiting the information that should tell him the
time had come to strike. But, as already related, the march of the
Federals on Manassas was slow and toilsome. It was not till the
morning was well on that the brigade of Taliaferro’s division near
Groveton, commanded by Colonel Bradley Johnson, was warned by the
cavalry that the enemy was moving through Gainesville in great
strength. A skirmish took place a mile or two north of that village,
and Johnson, finding himself menaced by far superior numbers, fell
back

to the wood near the Douglass House. He was not followed. The
Union generals, Sigel
and Reynolds, who had been ordered to Manassas to “bag” Jackson, had
received no word of his departure from the Junction; and believing
that Johnson’s small force was composed only of cavalry, they
resumed the march which had been temporarily interrupted.

The
situation, however, was no clearer to the Confederates. The enemy
had disappeared in the great woods south-west of Groveton, and heavy
columns were still reported coming up from Gainesville. During the
afternoon, however, the cavalry captured a Federal courier, carrying
McDowell’s orders for the movement of the left and centre, which had
been placed under his command, to Manassas Junction,1 and
this important document was immediately forwarded to Jackson.

“Johnson’s messenger,” says General Taliaferro, “found the
Confederate headquarters established on the shady side of an
old-fashioned worm-fence, in the corner of which General Jackson and
his division commanders were profoundly sleeping after the fatigues
of the preceding night, notwithstanding the intense heat of the
August day. There was not so much as an ambulance at headquarters.
The headquarters’ train was back beyond the Rappahannock, at
Jefferson, with remounts, camp equipage, and all the arrangements
for cooking and serving food. All the property of the general, the
staff, and the headquarters’ bureau was strapped to the pommels and
cantels of the saddles, and these formed the pillows of their weary
owners. The captured dispatch roused Jackson like an electric shock.
He was essentially a man of action. He rarely, if ever, hesitated.
He never asked advice. He called no council to discuss the situation
disclosed by this

1 The order, dated 2
a.m., August 25, was to the following effect:—

“1. Sigel’s Corps to march from Gainesville to Manassas Junction,
the right resting on the Manassas railroad.

“2.
Reynolds to follow Sigel.

“3. King to follow
Reynolds.

“4. Ricketts to follow King; but to
halt at Thoroughfare Gap if the enemy threatened the pass.

King was afterwards, while on the march, directed to Centreville by
the Warrenton–Alexandria road.”

communication, although his ranking officers were almost at his
side. He asked no conference of opinion. He made no suggestion, but
simply, without a word, except to repeat the language of the
message, turned to me and said: ‘Move your division and attack the
enemy;’ and to Ewell, ‘Support the attack.’ The slumbering soldiers
sprang from the earth at the first murmur. They were sleeping almost
in ranks; and by the time the horses of their officers were saddled,
the long lines of infantry were moving to the anticipated
battle-field.

“The two divisions, after marching some distance
to the north of the turnpike, were halted and rested, and the
prospect of an engagement on that afternoon seemed to disappear with
the lengthening shadows. The enemy did not come. The Warrenton
turnpike, along which it was supposed he would march, was in view,
but it was as free from Federal soldiery as it had been two days
before, when Jackson’s men had streamed along its highway.”1

Jackson, however, was better informed than his subordinate. Troops
were still moving through Gainesville, and, instead of turning off
to Manassas, were marching up the turnpike on which so many eyes
were turned from the neighbouring woods. King’s division, while on
the march to Manassas, had been instructed to countermarch and make
for Centrevile, by Groveton and the Stone Bridge. Ricketts, who had
been ordered by McDowell to hold Thoroughfare Gap, was already
engaged with Longstreet’s advanced guard, and of this Jackson was
aware; for Stuart, in position at Haymarket, three miles north of
Gainesville, had been skirmishing all day with the enemy’s cavalry,
and had been in full view of the conflict at the Gap.2

Jackson, however, knew not that one division was all that was before
him. The Federal movements had covered

1
Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, pp. 507, 508.2
Longstreet had been unable to march with the same speed as Jackson.
Leaving Jefferson on the afternoon of August 26, he did not reach
Thoroughfare Gap until “just before night” on August 28. He had been
delayed for an hour at White Plains by the Federal cavalry, and the
trains of the army, such as they were, may also have retarded him.
In two days he covered only thirty miles.

so wide an extent of country, and had been so well concealed by the
forests, that it was hardly possible for Stuart’s patrols,
enterprising as they were, to obtain accurate information.
Unaccustomed to such disjointed marches as were now in progress
across his front, Jackson believed that King’s column was the
flank-guard of McDowell’s army corps. But, although he had been
compelled to leave Hill near the Stone Bridge, in order to protect
his line of retreat on Aldie, he had still determined to attack. The
main idea which absorbed his thoughts is clear enough. The Federal
army, instead of moving direct from Warrenton on Alexandria, as he
had anticipated, had apparently taken the more circuitous route by
Manassas, and if Pope was to be fought in the open field before he
could be reinforced by McClellan, he must be induced to retrace his
steps. To do this, the surest means was a resolute attack on King’s
division, despite the probability that it might be strongly
reinforced; and it is by no means unlikely that Jackson deferred his
attack until near sunset in order that, if confronted by superior
numbers, he might still be able to hold on till nightfall, and
obtain time for Longstreet to come up.

Within the wood due
north of the Dogan House, through which ran an unfinished railroad,
Ewell’s and Taliaferro’s divisions, awaiting the propitious moment
for attack, were drawn up in order of battle. Eight brigades, and
three small batteries, which had been brought across country with
great difficulty, were present, and the remainder of the artillery
was not far distant.1 Taliaferro, on the right, had two
brigades (A. G. Taliaferro’s and the Stonewall) in first line;
Starke was in second line, and Bradley Johnson near Groveton
village. Ewell, on the left, had placed Lawton and Trimble in front,
while Early and Forno formed a general reserve. This force numbered
in all about 8,000 men, and even the skirmishers, thrown out well to
the front, were concealed by the undulations of the ground.

1 Twenty pieces had been ordered to the front soon after the
infantry moved forward. The dense woods, however, proved
impenetrable to all but three horse-artillery guns, and one of these
was unable to keep up.

The Federal division commanded by General King, although unprovided
with cavalry and quite unsupported, was no unworthy enemy. It was
composed of four brigades of infantry, led by excellent officers,
and accompanied by four batteries. The total strength was 10,000
men. The absence of horsemen, however, placed the Northerners at a
disadvantage from the outset.

The leading brigade was within a
mile of Groveton, a hamlet of a few houses at the foot of a long
descent, and the advanced guard, deployed as skirmishers, was
searching the woods in front. On the road in rear, with the
batteries between the columns, came the three remaining
brigades—Gibbon’s,
Doubleday’s, and
Patrick’s—in the order named.

The wood in which the
Confederates were drawn up was near a mile from the highway, on a
commanding ridge, overlooking a broad expanse of open ground, which
fell gently in successive undulations to the road. The Federals were
marching in absolute unconsciousness that the enemy, whom the last
reports had placed at Manassas, far away to the right, was close at
hand. No flank-guards had been thrown out. General King was at
Gainesville, sick, and a regimental band had just struck up a merry
quickstep. On the open fields to the left, bathed in sunshine, there
was not a sign of life. The whitewashed cottages, surrounded by
green orchards, which stood upon the slopes, were lonely and
untenanted, and on the edge of the distant wood, still and drooping
in the heat, was neither stir nor motion. The troops trudged
steadily forward through the dust; regiment after regiment
disappeared in the deep copse which stands west of Groveton, and far
to the rear the road was still crowded with men and guns. Jackson’s
time had come.

Two Confederate batteries, trotting forward
from the wood, deployed upon the ridge. The range was soon found,
and the effect was instantaneous. But the confusion in the Northern
ranks was soon checked; the troops found cover inside the bank which
lined the road, and two batteries, one with the advanced guard and
one from the centre of the column, wheeling into the fields to the

left, came quickly into action. About the same moment Bradley
Johnson became engaged with the skirmishers near Groveton.

The
Confederate infantry, still hidden by the rolling ground, was
forming for attack, when a Federal brigade, led by General Gibbon,
rapidly deploying on the slopes, moved forward against the guns. It
was Stuart’s horse-artillery, so the Northerners believed, which had
fired on the column, and a bold attack would soon drive back the
cavalry. But as Gibbon’s regiments came forward the Southern
skirmishers, lying in front of the batteries, sprang to their feet
and opened with rapid volleys; and then the grey line of battle,
rising suddenly into view, bore down upon the astonished foe.
Taliaferro, on the right, seized a small farmhouse near Gainesville,
and occupied the orchard; the Stonewall Brigade advanced upon his
left, and Lawton and Trimble prolonged the front towards the
Douglass House. But the Western farmers of Gibbon’s brigade were
made of stubborn stuff. The Wisconsin regiments held their ground
with unflinching courage. Both flanks were protected by artillery,
and strong reinforcements were coming up. The advanced guard was
gradually falling back from Groveton; the rear brigades were
hurrying forward up the road. The two Confederate batteries,
overpowered by superior metal, had been compelled to shift position;
only a section of Stuart’s horse-artillery under Captain Pelham had
come to their assistance, and the battle was confined to a frontal
attack at the closest range. In many places the lines approached
within a hundred yards, the men standing in the open and blazing
fiercely in each other’s faces. Here and there, as fresh regiments
came up on either side, the grey or the blue gave way for a few
short paces; but the gaps were quickly filled, and the wave once
more surged forward over the piles of dead. Men fell like leaves in
autumn. Ewell was struck down and Taliaferro, and many of their
field officers, and still the Federals held their ground. Night was
settling on the field, and although the gallant Pelham, the boy
soldier, brought a gun into action within seventy paces of Gibbon’s
line, yet

the front of fire, flashing redly through the gloom, neither receded
nor advanced. A flank attack on either side would have turned the
scale, but the fight was destined to end as it had begun. The
Federal commander, ignorant of the enemy’s strength, and reaching
the field when the fight was hottest, was reluctant to engage his
last reserves. Jackson had ordered Early and Forno, moving through
the wood west of the Douglass House, to turn the enemy’s right; but
within the thickets ran the deep cuttings and high embankments of
the unfinished railroad; and the regiments, bewildered in the
darkness, were unable to advance. Meanwhile the fight to the front
had gradually died away. The Federals, outflanked upon the left, and
far outnumbered, had slowly retreated to the road. The Confederates
had been too roughly handled to pursue.

The reports of the
engagement at Groveton are singularly meagre. Preceded and followed
by events of still greater moment, it never attracted the attention
it deserved. On the side of the Union 2,800 men were engaged, on the
side of the Southerners 4,500, and for more than an hour and a half
the lines of infantry were engaged at the very closest quarters. The
rifled guns of the Federals undoubtedly gave them a marked
advantage. But the men who faced each other that August evening
fought with a gallantry that has seldom been surpassed. The
Federals, surprised and unsupported, bore away the honours. The
Western brigade, commanded by General Gibbon, displayed a coolness
and a steadfastness worthy of the soldiers of Albuera. Out of 2,000
men the four Wisconsin and Indiana regiments lost 750, and were
still unconquered. The three regiments which supported them,
although it was their first battle, lost nearly half their number,
and the casualties must have reached a total of 1,100. The
Confederate losses were even greater. Ewell, who was shot down in
the first line, and lay long on the field, lost 725 out of 3,000.
The Stonewall Brigade, which had by this time dwindled to 600
muskets, lost over 200, including five field officers; the 21st
Georgia, of Trimble’s brigade, 178 men out of 242; and it is
probable that the Valley army on

this day was diminished by more than 1,200 stout soldiers. The fall
of Ewell was a terrible disaster. Zealous and indefatigable, a stern
fighter and beloved by his men, he was the most able and the most
loyal of Jackson’s generals. Taliaferro, peculiarly acceptable to
his Virginia regiments as a Virginian himself, had risen from the
rank of colonel to the command of a division, and his spurs had been
well won. The battle of Groveton left gaps in Jackson’s ranks which
it was hard to fill, and although the men might well feel proud of
their stubborn fight, they could hardly boast of a brilliant
victory.

Strategically, however, the engagement was decisive.
Jackson had brought on the fight with the view of drawing the whole
Federal army on himself, and he was completely successful. The
centre, marching on the Stone Bridge from Manassas Junction, heard
the thunder of the cannon and turned westward; and before nightfall
A. P. Hill’s artillery became engaged with Sigel’s advanced guard.
Pope himself, who received the intelligence of the engagement at
9.20 p.m., immediately issued orders for an attack on Jackson the
next morning, in which the troops who had already reached
Centreville were to take part. “McDowell,” ran the order, “has
intercepted the retreat of the enemy, Sigel is immediately in his
front, and I see no possibility of his escape.”

But Pope, full
of the idea that Jackson had been stopped in attempting to retreat
through Thoroughfare Gap, altogether misunderstood the situation. He
was badly informed. He did not know even the position of his own
troops. His divisions, scattered over a wide extent of country,
harassed by Stuart’s cavalry, and ignorant of the topography, had
lost all touch with the Commander-in-Chief. Important dispatches had
been captured. Messages and orders were slow in arriving, if they
arrived at all. Even the generals were at a loss to find either the
Commander-in-Chief or the right road. McDowell had ridden from
Gainesville to Manassas in order to consult with Pope, but Pope had
gone to Centreville. McDowell thereupon set out to rejoin his
troops, but lost his way in the forest and went

back to Manassas. From Ricketts Pope received no information
whatever.1 He was not aware that after a long skirmish at
Thoroughfare Gap, Longstreet had opened the pass by sending his
brigades over the mountains on either hand, threatening both flanks
of the Federals, and compelling them to retire. He was not aware
that King’s division, so far from intercepting Jackson’s retreat,
had abandoned the field of Groveton at 1 a.m., and, finding its
position untenable in face of superior numbers, had fallen back on
Manassas; or that Ricketts, who had by this time reached
Gainesville, had in consequence continued his retreat in the same
direction.

Seldom have the baneful effects of dispersion been
more strikingly illustrated, and the difficulty, under such
circumstances, of keeping the troops in the hand of the
Commander-in-Chief. On the morning of the 28th Pope had ordered his
army to march in three columns on Manassas, one column starting from
Warrenton Junction, one from Greenwich, and one from Buckland Mills,
the roads which they were to follow being at their furthest point no
more than seven miles apart. And yet at dawn on the 29th he was
absolutely ignorant of the whereabouts of McDowell’s army corps; he
was but vaguely informed of what had happened during the day; and
while part of his army was at Bald Hill, another part was at
Centreville, seven miles north-east, and a third at Manassas and at
Bristoe, from seven to twelve miles south-east. Nor could the staff
be held to blame for the absence of communication between the
columns. In peace it is an easy matter to assume that a message sent
to a destination seven miles distant by a highroad or even country
lanes arrives in good time. Seven miles in peace are very short. In
war, in the neighbourhood of the enemy, they are very long. In
peace, roads are easy to find. In war, it is the exception that they
are found, even when messengers are provided with good maps

1 Ricketts’ report would have been transmitted through
McDowell, under whose command he was, and as McDowell was not to be
found, it naturally went astray.

and the country is thickly populated; and it is from war that the
soldier’s trade is to be learned.

Jackson’s army corps
bivouacked in the position they had held when the fierce musketry of
Groveton died away. It was not till long after daybreak on the 29th
that his cavalry patrols discovered that King’s troops had
disappeared, and that Longstreet’s advanced guard was already
through Thoroughfare Gap. Nor was it till the sun was high that Lee
learned the events of the previous evening, and these threw only a
faint light on the general situation. But had either the
Commander-in-Chief or his lieutenant, on the night of the 28th,
known the true state of affairs, they would have had reason to
congratulate themselves on the success of the plan which had been
hatched on the Rappahannock. They had anticipated that should
Jackson’s movement on Manassas prove successful, Pope would not only
fall back, but that he would fall back in all the confusion which
arises from a hastily conceived plan and hastily executed manœuvres.
They had expected that in his hurried retreat his army corps would
lose touch and cohesion; that divisions would become isolated; that
the care of his impedimenta, suddenly turned in a new direction,
would embarrass every movement; and that the general himself would
become demoralised.

The orders and counter-orders, the marches
and counter-marches of August 28, and the consequent dispersion of
the Federal army, are sufficient in themselves to prove the deep
insight into war possessed by the Confederate leaders.

Nevertheless, the risk bred of separation which, in order to achieve
great results, they had deliberately accepted had not yet passed
away. Longstreet had indeed cleared the pass, and the Federals who
guarded it had retreated; but the main body of the Confederate army
had still twelve miles to march before it could reach Jackson, and
Jackson was confronted by superior numbers. On the plateau of Bull
Run, little more than two miles from the field of Groveton, were
encamped over 20,000 Federals, with the main number at Manassas. At
Centreville, a seven miles’ march, were 18,000; and at Bristoe
Station, about the same distance, 11,000.

It was thus possible for Pope to hurl a superior force against
Jackson before Lee could intervene; and although it would have been
sounder strategy, on the part of the Federal commander, to have
concentrated towards Centreville, and have there awaited
reinforcements, now fast coming up, he had some reason for believing
that he might still, unaided, deal with the enemy in detail. The
high virtue of patience was not his. Ambition, anxiety to retrieve
his reputation, already blemished by his enforced retreat, the
thought that he might be superseded by McClellan, whose operations
in the Peninsula he had contemptuously criticised, all urged him
forward. An unsuccessful general who feels instinctively that his
command is slipping from him, and who sees in victory the only hope
of retaining it, seldom listens to the voice of prudence.

August 29 So on the morning of the 29th Jackson had to do
with an enemy who had resolved to overwhelm him by weight of
numbers. Nor could he expect immediate help. The Federal cavalry
still stood between Stuart and Thoroughfare Gap, and not only was
Jackson unaware that Longstreet had broken through, but he was
unaware whether he could break through. In any case, it would be
several hours before he could receive support, and for that space of
time his three divisions, worn with long marching and the fierce
fight of the previous evening, would have to hold their own unaided.
The outlook, to all appearance, was anything but bright. But on the
opposite hills, where the Federals were now forming in line of
battle, the Valley soldiers had already given proof of their
stubborn qualities on the defensive. The sight of their baptismal
battle-field and the memories of Bull Run must have gone far to
nerve the hearts of the Stonewall regiments, and in preparing once
more to justify their proud title the troops were aided by their
leader’s quick eye for a position. While it was still dark the
divisions which had been engaged at Groveton took ground to their
left, and passing north of the hamlet, deployed on the right of A.
P. Hill. The long, flat-topped ridge, covered with scattered copses
and rough undergrowth, which stands north of the

Warrenton–Centreville road, commands the approaches from the south
and east, and some five hundred yards below the crest ran the
unfinished railroad.

Behind the deep cuttings and high
embankments the Confederate fighting-line was strongly placed. The
left, lightly thrown back, rested on a rocky spur near Bull Run,
commanding Sudley Springs Ford and the road to Aldie Gap. The front
extended for a mile and three-quarters south-west. Early, with two
brigades and a battery, occupied a wooded knoll where the unfinished
railroad crosses the highroad, protecting the right rear, and
stretching a hand to Longstreet.

The infantry and artillery
were thus disposed:—

Infantry

Left.—A. P. Hill’s Division. First and Second line: Three
brigades. (Field, Thomas, Gregg.) Third line: Three brigades.
(Branch, Pender, Archer.)

Right.—Taliaferro’s Division
(now commanded by Stark). First and Second line: Two brigades. Third
line: Two brigades.

Force detached on the
right: Two brigades of Ewell’s Division (Early and Forno), and one
battery.

Artillery

16 guns behind the left, 24 guns behind the right centre: On the
ridge, five hundred yards in rear of the fighting-line.

The flanks were secured by Stuart. A portion of the cavalry was
placed at Haymarket to communicate as soon as possible with
Longstreet. A regiment was pushed out towards Manassas, and on the
left bank of Bull Run Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade watched the approaches
from Centreville and the north. Jackson’s strength, deducting the
losses of the previous day, and the numerous stragglers left behind
during his forced marches, can hardly have exceeded 18,000
muskets, supported by 40
guns, all that there was room for, and some 2,500 cavalry. These
numbers, however, were ample for the defence of the position which
had been selected. Excluding the detached force on the extreme

right, the line occupied was three thousand yards in length, and to
every yard of this line there were more than five muskets, so that
half the force could be retained in third line or reserve. The
position was thus strongly held and strong by nature. The
embankments formed stout parapets, the cuttings deep ditches.

Before the right and the right centre the green pastures, shorn for
thirteen hundred yards of all obstacles save a few solitary
cottages, sloped almost imperceptibly to the brook which is called
Young’s Branch. The left centre and left, however, were shut in by a
belt of timber, from four hundred to six hundred yards in width,
which we may call the Groveton wood. This belt closed in upon, and
at one point crossed, the railroad, and, as regards the field of
fire, it was the weakest point. In another respect, however, it was
the strongest, for the defenders were screened by the trees from the
enemy’s artillery. The rocky hill on the left, facing north-east,
was a point of vantage, for an open corn-field lay between it and
Bull Run. Within the position, behind the copses and undulations,
there was ample cover for all troops not employed on the
fighting-line; and from the ridge in rear the general could view the
field from commanding ground.

5.15 a.m.
Shortly after 5 a.m., while the Confederates were still taking up
their positions, the Federal columns were seen moving down the
heights near the Henry House. Jackson had ridden round his lines,
and ordering Early to throw forward two regiments east of the
turnpike, had then moved to the great battery forming in rear of his
right centre. His orders had already been issued. The troops were
merely to hold their ground, no general counterstroke was intended,
and the divisional commanders were to confine themselves to
repulsing the attack. The time for a strong offensive return had not
yet come.

The enemy advanced slowly in imposing masses.
Shortly after seven o’clock, hidden to some extent by the woods,
four divisions of infantry deployed in several lines at the foot of
the Henry Hill, and their skirmishers became

engaged with the Confederate pickets. At the same moment three
batteries came into action on a rise north-east of Groveton,
opposite the Confederate centre, and Sigel, supported by Reynolds,
prepared to carry out his instructions, and hold Jackson until the
remainder of Pope’s army should arrive upon the field. At the end of
July, Sigel’s army corps had numbered 13,000 men. Allowing for
stragglers and for casualties on the Rappahannock, where it had been
several times engaged, it must still have mustered 11,000. It was
accompanied by ten batteries, and Reynolds’ division was composed of
8,000 infantry and four batteries. The attack was thus no stronger
than the defence, and as the Federal artillery positions were
restricted by the woods, there could be little doubt of the result.
In other respects, moreover, the combatants were not evenly matched.
Reynolds’ Pennsylvanians were fine troops, already seasoned in the
battles on the Peninsula, and commanded by such officers as Meade
and
Seymour.
But Sigel, who had been an officer in the Baden army, had succeeded
Frémont, and his corps was composed of those same Germans whom Ewell
had used so hardly at Cross Keys. Many of them were old soldiers,
who had borne arms in Europe; but the stern discipline and trained
officers of conscript armies were lacking in America, and the
Confederate volunteers had little respect for these foreign levies.
Nor were Sigel’s dispositions a brilliant example of offensive
tactics. His three divisions, Schurz’, Schenck’s, and Steinwehr’s,
supported by Milroy’s independent brigade, advanced to the attack
along a wide front. Schurz, with two brigades, moving into the
Groveton wood, assailed the Confederate left, while Milroy and
Schenck advanced over the open meadows which lay in front of the
right. Steinwehr was in reserve, and Reynolds, somewhat to the rear,
moved forward on the extreme left. The line was more than two miles
long; the artillery, hampered by the ground, could render but small
assistance; and at no single point were the troops disposed in
sufficient depth to break through the front of the defence. The
attack, too, was piecemeal. Advancing

through the wood, Schurz’ division was at once met by a sharp
counterstroke, delivered by the left brigade (Gregg’s South
Carolina) of A. P. Hill’s division, which drove the two Federal
brigades apart. Reinforcements were sent in by Milroy, who had been
checked on the open ground by the heavy fire of Jackson’s guns, and
the Germans rallied; but, after some hard fighting, a fresh
counterstroke, in which
Thomas’ brigade took
part, drove them in disorder from the wood; and the South
Carolinians, following to the edge, poured heavy volleys into their
retreating masses. Schenck, meanwhile, deterred by the batteries on
Jackson’s right, had remained inactive; the Federal artillery, such
as had been brought into action, had produced no effect; Reynolds,
who had a difficult march, had not yet come into action; and in
order to support the broken troops Schenck was now ordered to close
in upon the right. But the opportunity had already passed.

10.15 a.m. It was now 10.30 a.m., and Jackson had long
since learned that Lee was near at hand. Longstreet’s advanced guard
had passed through Gainesville, and the main body was closing up.
Not only had time been gained, but two brigades alone had proved
sufficient to hold the enemy at arm’s length, and the rough
counterstrokes had disconcerted the order of attack. A fresh Federal
force, however, was already approaching. The troops from
Centreville, comprising the divisions of Hooker, Kearney, and Reno,
17,000 or 18,000 men, were hurrying over the Stone Bridge; and a
second and more vigorous attack was now to be withstood. Sigel, too,
was still capable of further effort. Bringing up Steinwehr’s
division, and demanding reinforcements from Reno, he threw his whole
force against the Confederate front. Schenck, however, still exposed
to the fire of the massed artillery, was unable to advance, and
Milroy in the centre was hurled back. But through the wood the
attack was vigorously pressed, and the fight raged fiercely at close
quarters along the railway. Between Gregg’s and Thomas’ brigades a
gap of over a hundred yards, as the men closed in upon the

centre, had gradually opened. Opposite the gap was a deep cutting,
and the Federals, covered by the wood, massed here unobserved in
heavy force. Attack from this quarter was unexpected, and for a
moment Hill’s first line was in jeopardy. Gregg, however, had still
a regiment in second line, and throwing it quickly forward he drove
the enemy across the railroad. Then Hill, bringing up Branch from
the third line, sent this fresh brigade to Gregg’s support, and
cleared the front.

The Germans had now been finally disposed
of. But although Longstreet had arrived upon the ground, and was
deploying in the woods on Jackson’s right, thus relieving Early, who
at once marched to support the centre, Jackson’s men had not yet
finished with the enemy. Pope had now taken over command; and
besides the troops from Centreville, who had already reached the
field, McDowell and Porter, with 27,000 men, were coming up from
Manassas, and Reynolds had not yet been engaged. But it is one thing
to assemble large numbers on the battle-field, another to give them
the right direction.

In the direction of Gainesville high
woods and rolling ridges had concealed Longstreet’s approach, and
the Federal patrols had been everywhere held in check by Stuart’s
squadrons. In ignorance, therefore, that the whole Confederate army
was concentrated before him, Pope, anticipating an easy victory,
determined to sweep Jackson from the field. But it was first
necessary to relieve Sigel. Kearney’s division had already deployed
on the extreme right of the Federal line, resting on Bull Run.
Hooker was on the left of Kearney and a brigade of Reno’s on the
left of Hooker. While Sigel assembled his shattered forces, these
10,000 fresh troops, led by some of the best officers of the Army of
the Potomac, were ordered to advance against A. P. Hill. Reynolds,
under the impression that he was fighting Jackson, was already in
collision with Longstreet’s advanced-guard; and McDowell and Porter,
marching along the railway from Manassas, might be expected to
strike the Confederate right rear at any moment. It was then with
good

hope of victory that Pope rode along his line and explained the
situation to his generals.

But the fresh attack was made with
no better concert than those which preceded it. Kearney, on the
right, near Bull Run, was held at bay by Jackson’s guns, and Hooker
and Reno advanced alone.

1 p.m. As the Federals moved forward the grey skirmishers
fell back through the Groveton wood, and scarcely had they reached
the railroad before the long blue lines came crashing through the
undergrowth. Hill’s riflemen, lying down to load, and rising only to
fire, poured in their deadly volleys at point-blank range. The storm
of bullets, shredding leaves and twigs, stripped the trees of their
verdure, and the long dry grass, ignited by the powder sparks, burst
into flames between the opposing lines. But neither flames nor
musketry availed to stop Hooker’s onset. Bayonets flashed through
the smoke, and a gallant rush placed the stormers on the embankment.
The Confederates reeled back in confusion, and men crowded round the
colours to protect them. But assistance was at hand. A fierce yell
and a heavy volley, and the regiments of the second line surged
forward, driving back the intruders, and closing the breach. Yet the
Federal ranks reformed; the wood rang with cheers, and a fresh
brigade advanced to the assault. Again the parapet was carried;
again the Southern bayonets cleared the front. Hooker’s leading
brigade, abandoning the edge of the wood, had already given ground.
Reno’s regiments, suffering fearful slaughter, with difficulty
maintained their place; and Hill, calling once more upon his
reserves, sent in Pender to the counterstroke. Passing by the right
of Thomas, who, with Field, had borne the brunt of the last attack,
Pender crossed the railroad, and charged into the wood. Many of the
men in the fighting-line joined in the onward movement. The Federals
were borne back; the brigades in rear were swept away by the tide of
fugitives; the wood was cleared, and a battery near by was deserted
by the gunners.

Then Pender, received with a heavy artillery
fire from the opposite heights, moved boldly forward across the
open. But the counterstroke had been pushed too far. The line

faltered; hostile infantry appeared on either flank, and as the
Confederates fell back to the railroad, the enemy came forward in
pursuit. Grover’s brigade of Hooker’s division had hitherto been
held in reserve, sheltered by a roll of the land opposite that
portion of the front which was held by Thomas.

3 p.m. It was now directed to attack. “Move slowly
forward,” were the orders which Grover gave to his command, “until
the enemy opens fire. Then advance rapidly, give them one volley,
and then the bayonet.” The five regiments moved steadily through the
wood in a single line. When they reached the edge they saw
immediately before them the red earth of the embankment, at this
point ten feet high and lined with riflemen. There was a crash of
fire, a swift rush through the rolling smoke, and the Federals,
crossing the parapet, swept all before them. Hill’s second line
received them with a scattered fire, turned in confusion, and fled
back upon the guns. Then beckoned victory to him who had held his
reserves in hand. Jackson had seen the charge, and Forno’s
Louisianians, with a regiment of Lawton’s, had already been sent
forward with the bayonet.

In close order the counterstroke
came on. The thinned ranks of the Federals could oppose no resolute
resistance. Fighting they fell back, first to the embankment, where
for a few moments they held their own, and then to the wood. But
without supports it was impossible to rally. Johnson’s and Starke’s
brigades swept down upon their flank, the Louisianians, supported by
Field and Archer, against their front, and in twenty minutes, with a
loss of one-fourth his numbers, Grover in his turn was driven beyond
the Warrenton turnpike.

Four divisions, Schurz’, Steinwehr’s,
Hooker’s, and Reno’s, had been hurled in succession against
Jackson’s front. Their losses had been enormous. Grover’s brigade
had lost 461 out of 2,000, of which one regiment, 288 strong,
accounted for 6 officers and 106 men; three regiments of Reno’s lost
530; and it is probable that more than 4,000 men had fallen in the
wood which lay in front of Hill’s brigades.

the Confederates. The charges to which they had been exposed,
impetuous as they were, were doubtless less trying than a sustained
attack, pressed on by continuous waves of fresh troops, and allowing
the defence no breathing space. Such steady pressure, always
increasing in strength, saps the morale more rapidly than a series
of fierce assaults, delivered at wide intervals of time. But such
pressure implies on the part of the assailant an accumulation of
superior force, and this accumulation the enemy’s generals had not
attempted to provide. In none of the four attacks which had shivered
against Hill’s front had the strength of the assailants been greater
than that of his own division; and to the tremendous weight of such
a stroke as had won the battles of Gaines’ Mill or Cedar Run, to the
closely combined advance of overwhelming numbers, Jackson’s men had
not yet been subjected.

The battle, nevertheless, had been
fiercely contested, and the strain of constant vigilance and
close-range fighting had told on the Light Division. The Federal
skirmishers, boldly advancing as Pender’s men fell back, had once
more filled the wood, and their venomous fire allowed the defenders
no leisure for repose.1 Ammunition had already given out;
many of the men had but two or three cartridges remaining, and the
volunteers who ran the gauntlet to procure fresh supplies were many
of them shot down. Moreover, nine hours’ fighting, much of it at
close range, had piled the corpses thick upon the railroad, and the
ranks of Hill’s brigades were terribly attenuated. The second line
had already been brought up to fill the gaps, and every brigade had
been heavily engaged.

4 p.m. It
was about four o’clock, and for a short space the pressure on the
Confederate lines relaxed. The continuous

1
“The Federal sharpshooters at this time,” says Colonel McCrady, of
the Light Division, “held possession of the wood, and kept up a
deadly fire of single shots whenever any one of us was exposed.
Every lieutenant who had to change position did so at the risk of
his life. What was my horror, during an interval in the attack, to
see General Jackson himself walking quickly down the railroad cut,
examining our position, and calmly looking into the wood that
concealed the enemy! Strange to say, he was not molested.”—Southern
Historical Society Papers, vol. xiii, p. 27.

roar of the artillery dwindled to a fitful cannonade; and along the
edge of the wood, drooping under the heat, where the foliage was
white with the dust of battle, the skirmishers let their rifles
cool. But the Valley soldiers knew that their respite would be
short. The Federal masses were still marching and counter-marching
on the opposite hills; from the forest beyond long columns streamed
steadily to the front, and near the Warrenton turnpike fresh
batteries were coming into action.

Pope had ordered Kearney
and Reno to make a fresh attack. The former, one of the most dashing
officers in the Federal army, disposed his division in two lines.
Reno, in the same formation, deployed upon Kearney’s right, and with
their flank resting on Bull Run the five brigades went forward to
the charge. The Confederate batteries, posted on the ridge in rear,
swept the open ground along the stream; but, regardless of their
fire, the Federals came rapidly to close quarters, and seized the
railroad.

4.30 p.m. When Hill saw
this formidable storm bursting on his lines he felt that the supreme
moment had arrived. Would Gregg, on whose front the division of Reno
was bearing down, be able to hold his own? That gallant soldier,
although more than one half of his command lay dead or wounded,
replied, in answer to his chief’s enquiry, that his ammunition was
almost expended, but that he had still the bayonet. Nevertheless,
the pressure was too heavy for his wearied troops. Foot by foot they
were forced back, and, at the same moment, Thomas, Field, and
Branch, still fighting desperately, were compelled to yield their
ground. Hill, anxiously looking for succour, had already called on
Early. The enemy, swarming across the railroad, had penetrated to a
point three hundred yards within the Confederate position. But the
grey line was not yet shattered. The men of the Light Division,
though borne backwards by the rush, still faced towards the foe; and
Early’s brigade, supported by two regiments of Lawton’s division,
advanced with levelled bayonets, drove through the tumult, and
opposed a solid line to the crowd of Federals.

moment, swept back numbers far superior to itself. Once more order
prevailed over disorder, and the cold steel asserted its supremacy.
The strength of the assailants was already spent. The wave receded
more swiftly than it had risen, and through the copses and across
the railroad the Confederates drove their exhausted foe. General
Hill had instructed Early that he was not to pass beyond the
original front; but it was impossible to restrain the troops, and
not till they had advanced several hundred yards was the brigade
halted and brought back.

5.15 p.m.
The counterstroke was as completely successful as those that had
preceded it. Early’s losses were comparatively slight, those
inflicted on the enemy very heavy, and Hill’s brigades were finally
relieved. Pope abandoned all further efforts to crush Jackson. Five
assaults had failed. 30,000 infantry had charged in vain through the
fatal wood; and of the 8,000 Federal casualties reported on this
day, by far the larger proportion was due to the deadly fire and
dashing counterstrokes of Jackson’s infantry.

While Pope was
hurling division after division against the Confederate left, Lee,
with Longstreet at his side, observed the conflict from Stuart’s
Hill, the wooded eminence which stands south-west of Groveton. On
this wing, though a mile distant from Jackson’s battle, both
Federals and Confederates were in force. At least one half of Pope’s
army had gradually assembled on this flank. Here were Reynolds and
McDowell, and on the Manassas road stood two divisions under Porter.

Within the woods on Stuart’s Hill, with the cavalry on his flank,
Longstreet had deployed his whole force, with the exception of
Anderson, who had not yet passed Thoroughfare Gap. But although both
Pope and Lee were anxious to engage, neither could bring their
subordinates to the point. Pope had sent vague instructions to
Porter and McDowell, and when at Length he had substituted a
definite order it was not only late in arriving, but the generals
found that it was based on an absolutely incorrect view of the
situation. The Federal commander had no knowledge that Longstreet,

with 25,000 men, was already in position beyond his left. So close
lay the Confederates that under the impression that Stuart’s Hill
was still untenanted, he desired Porter to move across it and
envelop Jackson’s right. Porter, suspecting that the main body of
the Southern army was before him, declined to risk his 10,000 men
until he had reported the true state of affairs. A peremptory reply
to attack at once was received at 6.30, but it was then too late to
intervene.

Nor had Lee been more successful in developing a
counterstroke. Longstreet, with a complacency it is difficult to
understand, has related how he opposed the wishes of the
Commander-in-Chief. Three times Lee urged him forward. The first
time he rode to the front to reconnoitre, and found that the
position, in his own words, was not inviting. Again Lee insisted
that the enemy’s left might be turned. While the question was under
discussion, a heavy force (Porter and McDowell) was reported
advancing from Manassas Junction. No attack followed, however, and
Lee repeated his instructions. Longstreet was still unwilling. A
large portion of the Federal force on the Manassas road now marched
northward to join Pope, and Lee, for the last time, bade Longstreet
attack towards Groveton. “I suggested,” says the latter, “that the
day being far spent, it might be as well to advance before night on
a forced reconnaissance, get our troops into the most favourable
positions, and have all things ready for battle the next morning. To
this General Lee reluctantly gave consent, and orders were given for
an advance to be pursued under cover of night, until the main
position could be carefully examined. It so happened that an order
to advance was issued on the other side at the same time, so that
the encounter was something of a surprise on both sides.1
Hood, with his two Texan brigades, led the Confederates, and King’s
division, now commanded by Hatch, met him on the slopes of Stuart’s
Hill. Although the Federals, since 1 a.m. the same morning, had
marched to Manassas and back again, the fight was spirited. Hood,
however, was strongly supported, and the Texans pushed forward

a mile and a half in front of the position they had held since noon.
Longstreet had now full leisure to make his reconnaissance. The
ground to which the enemy had retreated was very strong. He believed
it strongly manned, and an hour after midnight Hood’s brigades were
ordered to withdraw.

The firing, even of the skirmishers, had
long since died away on the opposite flank. The battle was over, and
the Valley army had been once more victorious. But when Jackson’s
staff gathered round him in the bivouac, “their triumph,” says
Dabney, “bore a solemn hue.” Their great task had been accomplished,
and Pope’s army, harassed, starving, and bewildered, had been
brought to bay. But their energies were worn down. The incessant
marching, by day and night, the suspense of the past week, the
fierce strife of the day that had just closed, pressed heavily on
the whole force. Many of the bravest were gone. Trimble, that stout
soldier, was severely wounded, Field and Forno had fallen, and in
Gregg’s brigade alone 40 officers were dead or wounded. Doctor
McGuire, fresh from the ghastly spectacle of the silent
battle-field, said, “General, this day has been won by nothing but
stark and stern fighting.” “No,” replied Jackson, very quietly, “it
has been won by nothing but the blessing and protection of
Providence.” And in this attitude of acknowledgment general and
soldiers were as one. When the pickets had been posted, and night
had fallen on the forest, officers and men, gathered together round
their chaplains, made such preparations for the morrow’s battle as
did the host of King Harry on the eve of Agincourt.